Broken
by HGF34567
Summary: [Sequel to Kick-Ass] "You can only push someone so far before they break." After the events of Kick-Ass, Mindy and Dave are trying to face the consequences of what they did to the world, and to themselves. Both are struggling to cope, and are breaking under the pressure. When things take a turn for the worst, Dave, Mindy, and New York City will be changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

Prolouge- Broken

Dave's POV

"I couldn't see it coming. Who could, I mean? I never imagined it bad it would get, where she would just eventually become glass and shatter into a million pieces. I felt so stupid for never being able to read it, in her eyes, in the way she spoke, everything any normal person would have seen right away. It was right there in front of me all along, the answers to questions I had had jumbled up inside of me for so long, constantly bothering me and making me want to die, just to find out what it all meant. I hate myself for not understanding the answers sooner. If I had, maybe everything would still be okay, and Mindy would, too.

I'm not going to lie. I can't say I never knew my world, Mindy's world, was going to burst at the seams. I wasn't completely oblivious. I could see something brewing, about to boil over, in her, in me. I denied it, though, because I thought I could fix her, I thought that I could save her. And believe me, I tried. But there isn't a lot you can do for something that's already past the point of being broken. Like I said before, broken was just the beginning of it all. Broken isn't shattered. She wasn't shattered until the very end.

You may think she' tough as nails, one of those girls that never cries, someone who, in crude terms, just doesnt' give a fuck. I'm not saying she wasn't. She was, still is, somewhere beneath all the pain. In fact, if you met her today, you wouldn't noticed any change in her. If you asked her how she was feeling, you'd probably still get a string of well thought out, profane threats, and a kick where it hurts. But...I saw another side of her. The scary side. If you think Mindy was scary when she was beating the crap out of people, you should have seen her when she was...broken.

It's hard to believe the death of her father could of lead to all this, but I think it may have been more than that, even. Don't ask me what. It's just hard to believe that one thing like this could have unhinged a person like Mindy. But you never know what that event meant to her. Like I said, maybe there was more. But you can never get inside someone's head. Especially someone like her."

The judge eyes me suspiciously, giving me a strange, superior look. I don't know why. "So you're saying...Ms. Macready was not entirely mentally stable at the time this all happened. Just before you said she wasn't. Now you're implying that she is. What exactly was her mental state at this time? I believe knowing this would help you greatly in your case."

I clear my throat and look at the jury before me, an explanation ready. "Your honor, Mindy wasn't mentally unstable. I know her. Look, I may not be a professional or anything, but I know what mental instablity looks like. She wasn't crazy. She was just an extremely pressured little girl who had seen so much in her life. Maybe she was unhinged...but crazy? No. I know that if she _was _crazy, this would make so much more sense. But she wasn't crazy. She was broken. You don't have to be crazy for everything in your life to just suddenly fall apart. We can't control it when that happens, we can only control how we react. And she decided to just let it all break. I would have broken a long time ago. I admire her strength.

"The thing is, your honor, there was a lot that happened to her, and it was a lot to carry on her frail little shoulders. Theres some things we can't heal from, we can't carry, we cant take anymore."

"Because you can only push someone so far...before they break."


	2. Chapter 2

Mindy's POV

...  
_Everytime I closed my eyes, all I could see was the flames, the flashing of the strobes, hear the faintest words in my ears. "I love you too, Daddy. Sleep tight." To think, the night it all happened, I was perfectly fucking fine with it, as long I was dishing out beatings and getting beat myself. I guess it was better when I was occupied, when I could busy myself with something to numb myself out for a while. But now, on forced retirement from my stepfather Marcus, it was hard to keep myself busy when I wasn't talking to Dave. Our talks were becoming less and less frequent, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I loved them. No, I needed them. Fuck it, I needed him. Without him, it was getting harder to breathe. The stress was pulling me under, deeper and deeper, and I couldn't control it...Unfortunatley, it was only going to get worse from there. If I had any idea how bad it was going to get, I would have done it a long time ago. Don't ask me why I did it. The logical thing to say would be that it was because everything that had happened in the past few months, but really, I don't know the reason. Impulse? Stupidity? Who fucking knows? All I know was, I did it. And, like everything else that had been happening, it wasn't pretty._

...

It happened. It hurt, and it was over in a short amount of time, but it happened. After that, there was just...so much pain and light. I could feel my life, draining, the last of my adrenaline coursing through me. I just wish it hadn't happened. All this fucking shit over the past couple of months and then, it only got worse. Worse enough to make me wanna kill myself.

**6 MONTHS EARLIER**

Dave stumbles into tables and chairs as he walks back to our table in the back of Starbucks, gripping two piping hot drinks, as I could see from the steam rising from each. He smiles when he sees me, sitting, waiting for him. I roll my eyes, despite being happy to see him here. "As adorable as you look tripping over your feet, can you just get to the fucking table already? We've been waiting an entire goddamned _hour _for those stupid things. If you spill them, I will literally kill you, Lizewski." I snarl, half joking. Dave gives me a panicked look. In the two weeks my dad has been dead, Dave has been along side me, to comfort me, I guess, no matter how scared he is of me. It makes being friends with him fun. I never knew having someone to tease and threaten would be so much fun. It's just sick that seeing him, whether in pain or happy, makes me feel better.

"Jesus Min. I'm trying." He mutters, setting down the dripping drinks carefully and sighing. I reach over and take a sip of my chai hot cocoa, letting the heat pour down my throat, which is aching, just like everything else in me has been lately. I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams, and theres nothing I can do to stop it, like I'm a rag doll that keeps ripping with time, ripping and ripping painfully, slowly, until finally, it's broken and useless. I sigh. If only I had died when Frank D'Amico had whooped my ass back in his penthouse. At least everything wouldn't hurt so much... "Mindy? Do you want to talk?" Dave asks, his voice softening a little. _"No. All I want to do is blow my fucking brains out right now. Anyway, how was that test you took yesterday?" _I shrug. "You know the answer, dickhead.."

Dave sighs. I know I've hurt his feelings, I'm sure of it. I really should be nicer to him, considering the fact that he's saved my life, been there for me ever since my dad died, and now, buys me coffee every day, but it feels good to take it out on someone. Even poor, defenseless Dave, who is only trying to help. "I guess you're still slightly mad at me for getting your dad killed." Dave states. His statement stops me cold, and the room gets farther, farther away, Daves voice is distant, and the lights are way too bright.

_"Good job, baby girl."_

_Daddy's voice echos in the warehouse, striking me right in the heart every time I hear it. I can't process any thoughts as the realization of the situation hits me: my daddy is dying. I choke back a sob. I've seen daddy hurt, cut, bruised, scarred, shot, and stabbed, but I've never seen him in more pain than now. This time, I think he's reached a point of pain where its nothing anymore, just a numb, cold, ache. Everything in me comes apart at that moment. My daddy can't die. He CAN"T. "You're the only thing I have." I whisper, so only I can hear. As I do that, Kick-Ass looks at me apologetically, his eyes begging for forgiveness and glowing with pity. I dismiss him with a cold glare and return my attention to my daddy. I carefully take off his mask, revealing his scarred, burnt face. I shove tears back down my throat. I have to be brave._

_"Are you OK?" Daddy asks, breaking the painful silence as a single tear rolls down my cheek. I nod, trying and trying so FUCKING badly to be strong. For one more moment, I can be brave. I can hold it in one more moment, for daddy."But getting shot daddy, it hurt a lot more than when you did it." I softly say, shaking my head slightly. It really die. But I feel like a pussy admitting it out loud, and more selfish than ever. I can't believe I'm crying over a BULLET wound that didn't even TOUCH me as my daddy sits in excruciating pain, dying ever so slowly. Daddy doesn't seem to care how selfish and wimpy I am. "That's because I used the low velocity rounds, child. Heh Heh." He chuckles, his raspy voice ebbing itself straight into my soul. I smile a little, for daddy. "You're the kindest daddy in the whole world." I sniffle. Daddy smiles, but then it fades._

_"No I just...I love you." He gasps. The words hurt more than getting shot, even without low velocity rounds. Normally, I would be crying more than I am now, but I have to be strong. Besides, I wouldn't want to reveal anything about myself as long as that pussy Kick-Ass is watching. What do I care though? It's not like he can do anything to make it beter, and who the fuck cares if I lose it in front of him? "I love you too, Daddy." I mumble, just as his head lowers and I know he has died. My heart aches, but I manage a smile. He's in heaven now, where nobody can ever hurt him again. Thank God. "I love you too, Daddy. Sleep tight." I plant a kiss on his forehead one last time._

"_NO!_" I scream, bursting upright in my chair. I look around at the 'vintage' posters and crappy polyester couches. Theres no evidence of the scene that just unfolded in front of me. No lighters, or empty shotgun shells, or blood or fire or- or my daddy. I feel a sob raise up in my throat as the stares of everyone else in Starbucks pin themselves to me. I slump back down in my seat and play with the zipper of my hoodie half mindedly. "Mindy, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to-" Dave stutters, his voice shaky and panicked. It bothers me, so FUCKING much, that he would do this. He knows about the stupid visions I've been having, he _knows _what happens when he even says my daddy's name, and yet, he still had to bring it up. "Dave just- _JUST SHUT UP!" _I scream, throwing my hand out and slashing it across the table, spilling the drinks all over the floor- and Dave. Another sob raises up and I try ever so hardly to force it back down. _It's all his fucking fault. HE'S why my daddy's dead. HE made this all fucking possible. _"You-you-you little-" I choke out, sobbing. Dave puts his hand on mine, both resting on the table. Rage bubbles up inside of me, but, but-

_Oh, fuck it._

I fall into his open arms and cry into his shoulder, my body shuddering against his. I can very faintly hear his voice, soothing me, "Mindy...shh. It's alright. I know it hurts." His words make me sob even harder. I feel like such a dick for blaming him, but I feel bipolar for going back and forth about it. _Why does everything have to be this hard?Even when it comes to my best friend, I have to fuck everything up because of what a little cunt I am. _"I'm sorry, Dave. I'm really sorry, just...It hurts so fucking much, Dave. I don't know what to do." I stutter, sniffling. He rubs my back as I let out my tears that I've been holding in for way too long. "I know, Mindy. I know." Dave responds as I try to pull myself back together, realizing that I'm in public, and that Dave probably looks like an ultra-fucking-pedophile. "Sorry about your hoodie." I mention, gesturing towards his wet, chocolate stained sweatshirt. "It's alright." He replies. I can almost feel him smiling symapthetically. "I can always buy a new one, right?"

I laugh a little and sniffle, trying to catch my breath again. "Mindy...should I drive you home? It's getting late and you don't sound so good..." Dave asks quietly. DO I want to go home? Honestly, all I want to do is kill someone, or keep crying. Either one would work, maybe dying would be an _excellent _third option. I can't respond to him, though. For some reason, it's hard to tell Dave that all I want to do is sob into his chest and die. I stay quiet, focusing on nothing but the brown, scratched celing tiles above me, darting my teary eyes upward. "I guess I should just take you home, then." Dave finally says. I wrap my arms tighter around him as he picks me up and carries me out of Starbucks, without even apologizing for the mess of spilled hot chocolate on the floor. I'm so proud of him. I feel like I'm swaying, drifitng along as Dave carries me back to his dads car, which he borrowed specifically to take me out. He sets me down carefully in the backseat, leaving me with nothing but the scents of coffee and Dave's body spray wafting in my nose as I settle down into the cold leather seats.

...

Dave drops me off at my old apartment, where I can quickly change into my costume. For some reason, I feel like I really need to be Hit-Girl right now. I feel like I've already fucked up Mindy Macready badly enough to where all I have left of me is Hit-Girl. I like it that way, though. At least, through my pain, I can do something good for the world. Maybe, I'll be able to finish all of the bullshit that Dave started. I hate having to do it for him, but it's not like he's going to do anything about it, and besides, he's in no way prepared to take down the Goddamned mob. Sure, he killed Frank D'Amico, but he had a jetpack...and a bazooka...so if you think about it, it really wasnt even a fair fight. I smack myself on the forehead, ashamed. _Why are you thinking like this, Mindy? That motherfucker SAVED your Goddamned life, bazooka or not. Get ahold of yourself, you idiot. _I take a deep breath, in and out, a few times. _Alright. Moving on now. _Slowly, with my fingers trembling, I punch in the punch code on the little keypad waiting outside the door.

I open the door and memories rush forward and smack me in the face. All I can see are flashes of every waking minute daddy and I spent in this place, all the hot cocoa we ever made, all the weapons bought on that computer. I can hear every word he ever said, from, _"Tool up honey-bunny," _ to, _"No more homework baby doll. It's time for Frank D'Amico to go 'bye-bye'." _ Its all coming back to me, and I don't like it at all. It's one thing remember all the happy times we had, but its another when my mind is only doing it to haunt me. Pain tugs at my heart and a feel a sob rising up in my throat, but I shove it back down. _Don't you dare cry. _ I pull myself together and dart for my old bedroom, where my costume is waiting for me on my bed. I walk towards it uncertainly, looking down at the crusted, dried blood on it. Again, I have to force myself not to cry like a little bitch as I shove my costume on, knot my hair under the wig cap, and force on my purple wig. Finally, I get on the mask, too. Everything smells like blood and smoke, which makes me wanna puke and at myself in the mirror, I look exactly the same as I did before daddy died, tough and adorable in a way (yes, I just called myself adorable), like nothing ever fucking happened. I like it. It feels good to pretend none of that shit ever happened.

Unfortunatley, after I leave my room I can't help but enter Daddy's. As I walk in, I start to regret my decision. His smell fills my nose when I walk in, the smell of laundry detergent and blood and sweat and metal. It's a strange smell, but the smell of my daddy. Everything looks so god damned perfect. His bed his made, like always. Closet door is closed. It's so clean and organized like always. It makes me wanna cry. Or scream. Or both. I try and hold in all the tears and push down the scream that rises in my throat. Memories come back. More and more and more and-

_I giggle in excitement as daddy chases me throughout the apartment. I turn to run around a corner, but my sock-footed feet make me slip and fall. Daddy catches up to me, sweeps me up in his arms and tickles me as he carries me. "You can't run away from bedtime anymore, honey. But I have to say, you're pretty fast for a seven year old girl." Daddy laughs as he carries me to my room. "Daddy, how come I can't sleep with you? My room's scary, there's always bad people hiding in there." I whine. Daddy tucks me into to my fluffy purple bed and plants a kiss on my forehead. "They can't hurt you baby. Daddy' s here, Ok. I'll always be there for you-"_

"_STOP, STOP, STOP!_' I scream, breaking free from the memory. "_JUST PLEASE FUCKING STOP!_" I sob. In an instant, I can feel myself collapsing to the floor and bursting into sobs. I got what I wanted. I'm crying now. Fuck. "Daddy I miss you so much..." I whisper, trying hard to breathe. "Please please please make the pain stop!" I exclaim. My stomache is twisting and turning into knots and my lungs are trying HARD to breathe. _PleasepleaseIdon'tknowwhyithurtsjustohmygodstop! _At an impulse, desperate to end the pain, I grab a combat knife from my utility belt and stab it into my thigh just to make it all stop.

Screams of pain get trapped in my throat as I try desperately to shove them back down. The white-beige celing above me goes dark, and the world goes black.

...

_I'm not going to lie. That incident was only the first of many. Sure, it was bad, but not as bad as what was to come. I wasn't at the breaking point, but I was pretty fucked up. You could say I was at that point where I was standing in the middle of that space between depression and mental illness. It sucked, but like I've been saying (and your probably tired of hearing by now), things would only get worse. And it wasn't going to be pretty as I shattered into a million pieces._

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Mindy's POV**

"Damn it. Just-Ow! Fuck!"

I shift my thigh so that I can wrap the bandage better around it, causing a whole new round of pain. At least it didn't hurt as much as when I took out the knife. _Or when daddy died. _Taking a deep breath, I secure the safety pin so that the bandages stay on properly and slowly lift my leg, just to see how fucking badly it's going to hurt to move this thing for the next few months. I'm lucky the cut wasn't _too _deep. I could be dead, my body pale and unmoving, skin paper white and lying in a puddle of blood. Dave would find me, eventually- he'd come into the apartment ready to train or hang out, and he'd walk into my room and find me dead. He'd gasp or some shit or cry and call Marcus. He'd come, cry too. It'd be an entire fucking sadfest. My funeral. Dave cries, Marcus cries. After the funeral. I'm forgotten, in another world. With daddy and mommy, finally a perfect family.

Why didn't I just plunge that knife into my fucking heart?

Dave walks in from the living room and scrunches up his nose at the thick, coppery smell of blood, which stopped bothering me a long time ago. When I pulled the knife out of my leg and finally got a good look at the injury, I decided I needed help. _Dave's not exactly help. He got daddy killed..._ The thought echoes in my head and I turn my head away from him, tears starting to blur my vision. _Don't be a pussy, Mindy. _I clear my throat and blink my tears away. "Jesus Min, didn't you think to mop the floor?" he whines, gesturning towards the dark red puddles on the hard, cracked wood floor. I roll my eyes. "Oh ya know, yeah. I was only bleeding to death and all, but you're _clearly _right. The floor should have been my first concern, I'm sorry I was so selfish." I spit out, my words pained and laced with sarcasm. Dave's eyes dart once again to the bloody floor and back to me. "I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "It's fine." I look up at him, his green-blue eyes reflecting real sorrow, and I begin respecting him somehow for giving me a real apology instead of the ones I recieved at daddy's funeral, those two meaningless little words (_I'm sorry_) that instantly turn me into a pity party. Not since daddy died has someone been real with me, and it feels nice. "Dave?" I soften my tone and tap him on the shoudler. He turns around and raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?" I stand up, wincing as spikes of pain run up and down my leg. Hesitantly, (but considering I really don't have anything else to lose) I hug him tightly, grateful that he's endured having to deal with me for this long, and still, hasn't left. "Thank you. For everything. I'm sorry I'm always such a stupid bitch to you." I smile as he wraps his arms back around me. This must be what it feels like to have a friend. We stay locked in a hug for a moment, neither of us wanting to let go. I think Dave's just trying to keep me in a good mood, but whatever it is, I'm glad he doesn't let go. "It's no big deal. Like I said before, I owe you." He says. I squeeze my eyes shut as another memory surfaces. I shove it back to the corners of my mind. For once, I allow myself to just enjoy someone else's company, for once, for a second.

"Dave?" I murmur. We break apart from our hug. "What's up?" He says, smiling a little. I take a deep breath. Somehow, I _know _I'm going to regret the next few words I say. "I want you to be my sidekick." I blurt out. Dave raises an eyebrow and his smile fades. "Like...Are you serious?" He asks, a smiling forming on his face, a dopey, idiotic kind of grin. I smile. "Yeah. I'm serious. I want you to be my sidekick.". Dave's expression is priceless, a mixture of surprise and happiness that you typically only see on, again, a kid. Then again, I would be pretty fucking excited too if I got to join a team with someone like...well, me, I guess. "Mindy, you and I both know that- oh, nevermind. I can't believe you want me to join a tea-" I punch him in the ribs, hard enough to make him cough a little. "What the fuck, Mindy?" Dave exclaims. I slap him this time. "Shut up! It's not that big a deal. We're a duo now, alright? Jesus, Dave. You're worse than a _Twilight _Fangirl at the premiere of _Eclipse._" I spit out, despite only teasing him. Well, I kind of knew I was going to regret asking him to join a team, yet I did it anyway. Maybe this _was _a bad idea. Fuck. It's too late now.

"I just...I can't belive..." Dave trails off. I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Hold on." I mutter, slowly advancing towards my old bedroom and rifling around for something I've had for years, now. A small candle and a piece of paper. It's good I've kept them all this time, like I knew that eventually I was going to go along and meet someone like Kick-Ass. I walk back over to Dave and toss the items in his hand. "It's an oath," I explain (before he can ask any stupid questions), "My daddy made me take one too, when I became a superhero." Dave eyes the candle and piece of paper, his eyes wide and excited. "This could not be any fucking cooler." He whispers. Smiling, I remember when daddy first did this with me. The way I doubted how serious he was, the way I knew how I was _destined _to be a superhero. _If only daddy were here to help me do this with Kick-Ass. _I blink a few times, shaking away the memories behind my closed eyes. "Sorry. Um, yeah, I know." I say, snapping back into myself. Dave and I absent mindedly walk around the apartment, really for no reason. Dave stops at a framed collage of phots hanging on the wall next to my bedroom door. Well, my _old _bedroom door.

After everything that had happened, I moved in with daddy's old best friend/my old caretaker Marcus Willaims, who, like I said, used to take care of me, from when I was born up until I was five, since my daddy had been in jail. Daddy had been framed as a drug dealer by the one and only Frank D'Amico, crime boss of New York City (just in case you didn't already know that), and well, he ended up in jail. I wasn't born then, but if I was, maybe I could have been there to stop my mother's suicide, or Frank framing daddy...there was a lot I _could _have done... Anyway, I had moved in with Marcus again, seeing as I had no other family that could take care of me. It was nice living with him in that big, happy house again, but...it wasn't like when I lived with daddy. We barely had somewhere big enough to call home, but it was more home there than at Marcus's house, though. Still, I _seemed _to be getting by pretty well living there.

"What's this?" Dave asks, pointing at the collage of photos. I look at it and smile. "That's mine and daddy's best hits. You know, little snapshots here and there of the impressive things we've done..." I trail off, glancing up at the photos that, rather than everything else in this damned place, bring back _good _memories. Dave whistles, looking at it. "That's crazy, Mindy. Your family photos...wow. This is them and...man. I'd kill for a life like yours." Dave nonchalantly says. I eye him suspiciously, not believing that after everything, Dave would want a life like mine. Admittedly, I can't say if I were...normal, I wouldn't want to live like this. Being Hit-Girl is awesome, but after all I've suffered? Dave couldn't handle it, I _know _it. "Dave...," I start to say, my voice taking on a weird, defensive tone (don't ask me why), "...just...nevermind." Dave eyes another photo, his eyes taking it all in. "What's this? The day you won your first beauty pageant?" He jokes, laughing a little. I look at the photo- in it I am wearing a silk pink dress, with short, ruffled sleeves, creamy lace wrapping around the top part of the dress, with a flowing, fluffy, full skirt with lace of the same kind creeping out from under it. _Oh, that. _"Very funny. I dressed all innocent and..fluffy like that because daddy was using me as bait for a child abductor. I carried around a teddy bear with a gun stuffed inside. It was like, when I was six or seven, maybe. That _was _one of my greatest hits."

...

_I clutch my teddy bear, squeezing it tighter against my chest, still shaking like a baby. Daddy wouldn't want me to be afraid, I'm a superhero, right? "You're coming me with me," The man says, grasping my arm hard and pulling me into his truck, which is bright colored and painted to look like an ice cream truck, just like daddy said it would be. I'm scared. What if I fail and never make it home to daddy? Oh no...I'm probably gonna fail. I take a deep, deep breath. "Don't be scared, Mindy." I whisper to myself. Daddy wouldn't want you to be scared. "Be brave."_

_The man leads me into the truck, chuckling to himself. As he straps me down with the seatbelt and settles me in, he smiles. "You won't be going home tonight, young lady." He murmurs, his face inches from mine. Suddenly, deep inside me, something happens. How could he do this to innocent little girls? This world sucks! People like him should pay for they do! "Likewise, asshole." I state calmly as I pull my teddy bear up, reach my hand up into the tear in his back, and grasp the gun safely hidden inside. My fingers instantly find the trigger, and before the man has any idea what I'm doing, I pull it. _

_Bulllets fly out of the teddy bear's arm, each landing in the man with a spurt of blood, ending his life. I smile to my self. One dirtbag's life is over. All I need to do is get the rest of those criminal scum. Daddy's gonna be so proud! I feel so powerful._

_I feel like a real superhero._

...

"Min?" Dave asks, a hand on my shoulder. I snap back into reality, looking at him apolegetically. Oh God, I had to fucking space out again. I blink a few times, suddenly back in my daddy's old apartment again."Sorry. It happens." I shrug. Dave pats my head, looking far off. "It's OK, it happened when my mom died. I completely understand what you're going through." He says, trying in some far off way to console me. _Did he really just say that? _My fists clench at my sides and I purse my full lips into a thin line. "People say that, all the fucking time, Dave. All the God-damned time. The cops, Marcus's friends, the counselers school, they've all said it, Dave. Everyone thinks they know what I've been through, Dave! Everybody! But, that's where it stops, a simple, 'Oh, poor baby, I know how you feel but it'll get better soon, sweetie!' Those words,that people don't even mean! I want someone to ask me how I'm doing instead of telling me they've felt the same way without even knowing what I'm feeling! I want someone to care about me Dave!" I shout, on the verge of killing someone right about then.

Dave walks over to where I've stormed over to. He puts his arm around me and shushes me, like I'm some sort of baby. Doesn't someone like him know what desperation is? How can he just shush me like that? Doesn't he know how it hurts? I pull away. "Stop it, Dave! You don't even fucking care! You're just worried I'll hurt you if you tell me the truth! Nobody, including you, really cares about me! The only person that did died!" I scream. I run back into my room and slam the door shut. I scream into my pillows as I flop back down onto my bed, letting out everything I've been holding up inside of me, all of the feelings and emotional crap. Why did daddy have to die? Everything was perfect! Before he died I never cried myself to sleep like a little pussy, or cut myself everytime I get a little pressured. "What's happening to me, daddy? I was never this way before, what the hell is happening?" I whisper to the ceiling, hoping my daddy can hear me from (hopefully) up above, in heaven. "Why am I dying inside?"

-LATER-

"Thanks for the ride," I say, the words feeling pressed, "Marcus probably started getting worried." Dave nods. An awkward, tense silence falls over us. Finally, I break it. "Dave, what's wrong? Is this about me yelling at you at my daddy's old place? I'm sorry, Dave, I just...I don't know what's wrong with me, Dave! I'm not...I'm not me! What the fuck, Dave? Is this normal?" I spill out. Dave shrugs. "I don't know, it's different for everybody Mindy. When my mom died...I don't know. It was just a whole lot of feeling numb while my dad cried in the next room. I don't know why I didn't...I don't know. Spaz out, like I always do. It was just the time when I realized things just...moved on, you know? I realized we couldn't be stuck in the past because, fuck it, Mindy, it just makes it worse." Dave replies. I nod. "Yeah," is all I say. I wish I could be like Dave, I wanna let time pass and be happy again. "I want to move on," I admit out loud. Dave puts his arm around me. "I know. I wish I could honestly say it'll get better." I pull away as he says that. "Yeah...I gotta go. Bye...and thanks again. For everything." I uneasily pull the words out of my mouth. I feel like throwing up, my stomach is churning and I have no clue why. Oh well, sickness passes. "Bye, Min." Dave smiles.

I wave at him as I finally approach my front door. Well, Marcus's front door. No matter how much better it gets, I realize that this will never be home. That's fine, I guess. But it'll always dawn on me that I can never live with daddy again. That's another thing that sucks about daddy's death- I can't enjoy living here, or anywhere else. Every time I think about it, I wonder, _was I really that close with daddy? _I guess. He was my best friend, my trainer, my teacher, _and _my daddy. I guess you could say he was pretty much everything to me. Still, though. It's strange how grief just hit me that way when he died. It never felt like it would be like that when he died.

Marcus is waiting for me as soon as I open the door. I smile at him as he pulls me into a hug. "You have fun?" He asks. "Yeah, tons." I guess I did. I don't tell him that I went to daddy's old apartment. He'd tell me it's unhealthy and forbid me from seeing Dave again, aside from the fact that he actually believes Dave's a good influence. Yes, we're talking about the same Dave Lizewski here. Apparently he's managed to keep his grades above a C since elementary school, doesn't have a police record, and is unknown to the world as the actual person who is Kick-Ass, the world's first fucking amazing superhero. Marcus wants me to end up exactly like him- average, boring, and _normal. _I think maybe he believes some of Dave's _beautiful _personality will rub off on me. I pray each and every night just to make sure that doesn't happen. "That's great. How's Dave?" He asks. I shrug. "Just as fucking amazing as always," I say, the words dripped in sarcasm.

Marcus scowls. "Look, Mindy, we've talked about you using that kind of language." He scolds me. I roll my eyes. I respect Marcus and all, and he's a really awesome guy (although no substitute for daddy) but for some reason, he doesn't seem to understand the way I was raised. "You did, but that's not going to change my vocabulary." I snap back. Marcus raises up his hands as if to say, _I'm innocent, don't hurt me! _"Stop snapping at me, and stop with that attitude. Go to your room and change into your PJ's, Ok? I'll come up to say goodnight. Gimme a hug." I fall into his arms, suddenly tired. "Goodnight anyway." I murmur before sprinting up to my room. I almost fall asleep when I plop on the bed. Why am I so tired and why does my stomache hurt so much? I guess it's symptoms of grief or something like that. _I'll be fine. _ I slowly pull on my pink PJ's, a sleepwear outfit consisting of polka dotted pink shorts and a matching tank top. As soon as I get all snug in my bed after getting into PJ's, I'm asleep.

...

_I'm alone in a dark room. The only thing I can see is a small light at the end of a long hallway. I'm drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. I can't help but walk towards it, but everytime I make a step, all I can hear are my father's screams as he burns, slowly dying. I know the light will lead me to daddy, but it is too much to have to relive his death all over again. Every step I take leads me further to my dive into insanity, but it would be worth it to get to daddy, wouldn't it? I'd rather be crazy than alone._

_Tears well up in my eyes as I hear the screams of my dying daddy, but still, I keep trying to get to him. But sooner or later, I start hearing other screams, too, hearing more people die. Dave, Marcus, among other screams I can't recognize. All of the people that were going to suffer, all because I decided being crazy is better than being alone. Why am I going to make these people suffer? What did I do? Or, rather, what am I going to do? I always knew someday I'd make some cocksuckers suffer, but never did I imagine hurting Marcus or Dave, or the people who I know are innocent. _

_A surprise comes my way. Well, surprising enough for a dream. "Mom?" I try to say, the sound coming out choked. My mom puts a finger to her lips. "You can't talk honey. That's the rule." She whispers, her face now inches from mine as if she were going to kiss me. Gross, that's my did I immeadiately know that this was mom? I've only seen her once, in an old, old picture, but she looks remarkabley older now, as if I'd have known what she looked like now. She looks...like me. Then I realize...the lady I know as mom...came to me in this fucked up dream as an older me. _

_"Mom, why-" I try to say. My voice is completely mute, and it frustrates me so badly I can feel hot, rage-induced tears making their way down my cheeks. My 'mom' wipes them away. "Honey, I know you don't understand this, but that's not important, OK? The importance is, I wanted to tell you you've done a good job. Be good to Marcus." She whispers, barely speaking, although it seems like she's shouting. I catch only one last glimpse of 'our' green eyes before she's vanished into thin air. _

_"Mommy?" I say, my voice back, just like that. It's like when she was here she stole our voice and used it for our own. I feel young again, like when I had just found out that mom went to heaven. I feel alone._

_The dream ends with hot flames licking my face and daddy screaming again._

**(Author's Note: Hey guys! I know, Mindy's a little bit OOC in this fanfiction, but I'm planning to get this more back on track with her character, but of course with the dark style of grief I've put into this fanfiction. And, guys, honestly I'd love to hear feedback from you, it really helps me develop as a writer. Another thing, I know it doesn't really follow the end of the Kick-Ass comic or movie, but I'm planning to tie in some things from Kick-Ass 2 [movie and comic] and the prelude to Kick-Ass 2 [Hit-Girl, the comic]. Anyway, thanks for reading, please review. See you guys next chapter!)**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hit-Girl's diary (age 12 and 1/4)**_

_Dear diary, _

_ I don't mean to exaggerate, but things could not fucking suck anymore than they already do. It could be worse, though, I guess. I could be dying, or have just been raped or something. It could always be worse. Still, things are hard right now._

_ Marcus is a great guy/guardian/stepdad (?), really. He's nice, keeps me fed and makes sure I'm safe. It turns out he was the best friend that daddy always told me about, the one who fought right alongside daddy in order to bring justice to this messed up city. I like him. But, he can never be a replacement for my daddy, and I can't live how he wants me to, I know this already. It's hard to live a normal life when you have no idea what the word normal means at this time and age. Even though Marcus tries to help me out, I guess he doesn't know what tweens are into either, and we're both clueless._

_ More importantly is the issue of me not being able to be Hit-Girl. Marcus isn't an idiot. He's figured out who I am (HG), and he's determined to stop it. He claims what I do is unhealthly and abnormal for a girl my age to pursue (whatever the fuck that means, if what I'm writing doesn't sound logical, that's because what Marcus is saying isn't). I need to be Hit-Girl, though. Ever since Frank D'Amico's death, the mob has been getting their shit together, and Dave and I need to start doing the same. I promised Marcus I'd quit, but that's a promise I can't honor. So, after a week or so more of lying low, it's time to hit the streets again. Believe me, I can barely wait. If only Marcus wasn't so intent on making me normal._

_ Like I said, Marcus is trying hard to make me normal, but I really doubt the girls at school are appreciating these efforts. Every time I walk by they whisper and mutter things about my clothes, hair, and attitude. It really sucks having to hear everything that's wrong with you when you walk in to a room. Marcus says if I wear my biggest smile and be nice to everyone I see, I'll be the most popular girl in school in no time at all. Apparently, he has no fucking clue how bad things are going for me at school. I'm about ten insults away from the snapping point._

_ Really, the only friend I have is 's wrong with that? He's nice, he listens to me, he tries to help me. I hope it's not just because he feels like he owes me, or feels bad for me. I'm nobody's pity party. Anyway, lately I've been noticing something's bothering him, something deep. When we talk, I know his mind is somewhere else. I can see something shadowing those eyes of his, those eyes that make it so hard for him to lie to me because I can see right into them like open doors. Even then, it doesn't take a well trained vigilante to figure out that something's not right. But every time I ask him, it's the same answer: "I'm fine Mindy," or, "Oh, don't worry about me, how are YOU feeling?" No matter what I say, that's all I get._

_ I guess that's all I wanted to say. I mean, I need somebody to rant to, and this journal is gonna have to make do. _

_-Mindy-_

_P.S.: ...what the fuck am I gonna do?_

**Mindy's POV**

I slam shut my journal and toss my pen back onto my bedside table. Settling the journal back under my pillow, I stand up when I hear Marcus calling, "Mindy, you're gonna miss the bus!" I groan inwardly. _Great_, the bus, a magical vehicle where I'm verbally assaulted on the way to another place where I'm degraded and killed by isolation and mean words. Perfect. Sighing, I start to make my way towards the front door. As I enter the kitchen, I quickly get a poptart in my mouth and chug down a protein shake. Marcus scowls. "I thought I told you those weren't healthy for girls your age." He scolds. I shrug.

"I'm used to eating what daddy fed me, Marcus. Besides, it's certain _kinds _that aren't healthy for girls my age." I respond, giving him a small smile. _Not that I'm keeping score, but I'm pretty sure I'm winning this. _Marcus just shakes his head. "Mindy, go. You're gonna be late." He sighs, pointing towards the door. I give him a quick hug and I'm out. 

The walk to my bus stop is a short one, but it feels longer due to the glares I get as I'm spotted. Before I arrive, I can already hear the insults I'll get. '_What's up with her repulsive face? OMG, her clothes are so babyish' _I brace myself for a rain of hateful words as I would for a rain of gunfire. Why are girls my age this way? Is something wrong with _me? _I have no idea what to do or what the fuck is going on, so I treat this like a mission as Hit-Girl; the enemies have sighted me. I can either attempt a retreat, fight back, or face them. I sigh. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to face the heat. On this mission, though, no matter what I do, I always fail.

"Hey Mindy! Your jeans are gorgeous! Where'd you get them?"

The voice of everybody's favorite bitch sends something pulsing through my veins. Shock, shame maybe (feelings I don't usually , it has been strange since daddy's died). I turn my head up and stop looking at the ground. Debbie Foreman, thinking _my _jeans look good? Yeah, right. That's like me believing Dave's Superman. Still, I guess I can agree. If I agree with her, though, will I look stupid, or like a good, nice person for agreeing? "Oh...well, um, my mom picked them out, and I was worried they looked a little old fashioned, but it's really cool you like 'em, Debbie." I smile. She looks towards her two minions and laughs. _Oh fuck. I should have kept my big mouth shut. _Debbie Foreman is everything you'd find in a movie villain (one of those movies like, for instance, _Mean Girls_)- bitchy, slutty, and awfully mean. She's one of those girls, one much like someone you know, that one person with a new boyfriend - and a new target to pick on - each week. Unfortunately, she's chosen me as her target, and I don't think she'll stop aiming at me in a week. Debbie Foreman, surrounded by people who secretly hate her, picks on me. I may have only one friend, but at least he really likes me, unlike Debbie, who has friends who's sole purpose is only to get in with the popular girls (and hot guys).

"I'm being _sarcastic, _you dumb whore. They look like something a five year old would wear. All they're missing is _Dora the Explorer._" She chokes out through her laughter. I look away. I should have _known _these bitches would do something like this. Daddy always told me you can never trust someone who's hurt you before, that second chances never matter, people never change. Daddy was right. _Of course daddy was right. This was everything he was trying to protect me from when he chose not to educate me and to train me instead. I should be more thankful than I am for that. _"Daddy, why did you have to die? If you were still alive, you could have kept me from these things, daddy, from these bitches and everything I never had to face before. I hate having a normal life." I whisper, making sure it is so silent even I can't hear it clearly. Imagine if these bitches heard me talking to my dead father. What kind of taunts would I get then?

Slowly I walk onto the bus, angry, hurt thoughts buzzing through my head like stinging, angry bees. Holding my breath, I take my seat and try to settle things down in my mind. There are so many things I want to do right now, things I can't keeping holding in for much longer, but somehow I manage not to punch anyone in the face. All around me I can hear little murmurs, things that only help to bubble up and boil the rage inside of me. I ignore them and try to control my rage. Something flashes through my mind. A memory, something harsh and fuzzy and barely there.

_"Daddy? Why are the bad guys so mean, daddy? They call me bad names and do such mean things to people. I hate them. I'm so mad at them." I snarl. I look in the mirror, where an angry seven year old and my daddy behind the mad girl are glaring back. Daddy runs the brush through my long, wet hair, which makes me cold as it sends droplets of freezing water trickling down my back. As it works it into a braid he sighs. "Oh Mindy, honey. People are like that. They lie and they hurt others to get what they want; pleasure, pain, money, you know how it works. But honey, it's a waste being angry at them. Anger is good sometimes, when it fuels you do fight back. But right now it's only slowing you down. Don't waste your anger on people who don't deserve it."_

_I smile at him, looking into the mirror. "Thanks, daddy. You always have the best advice." I say, flashing my teeth at him. He smiles back, knotting my waist length hair, finally done with the braid. "You're welcome, sugar-plum." He replies. I turn around and hug him, his words still ringing through my head; 'Don't waste your anger on those who don't deserve it.' I wouldn't waste it anymore. I'd save it for the bad guys that really deserved a good beating..._

I snap back into reality as the bus pulls to a stop. Everyone giggles as I exit the bus, the last one to leave. Perfect. _Way to go, Mindy. You embarassed yourself, again. _"Damn it," I mutter. Well, this day is going just so fucking _perfect_ so far. I make the walk up to the front steps of the school and sigh. My school is one of those schools where everything shitty is happening- drugs, booze, underaged sex and, of course, bullying. Unfortunately, though, my school is also one of the ones in which the faculty and staff give no fucks about any of this. What makes it worse it that since it's a junior high/high school, the younger kids have the older ones to deal with. However, I made sure I'd be left alone by the high schoolers on my first day of school when I kicked those bullies' asses when they asked for my lunch money.

As I look at the crowd of kids before me, those talking about hair and clothes and make-up, I realize how glad am I my daddy tried to protect me from a life like this. I wouldn't have survived one day as one of them, I'm sure. _Thanks daddy. I love you for not letting me become this. _

_Because there's no way I'm going to live through this any longer. _

**LATER...**

The whispers start again after fifth period. I'm on my way from art when I start hearing whispers. "Looks like someone spilled her paint in class," someone snickers. I roll my eyes. Who knows what the fuck they're talking about? I can never understand exactly what they mean by their fucking taunts. I'm not stupid or anything, but I know how these girls like to send mixed messages. _'You whore/bitch/little fucking loser' _could mean, _'I'm in danger of being replaced by you on the social chain. Let me insult you so you stay in your place.' _ Understand what I'm sayin'? _Girls my age deserve a special place in hell for their nastiness, _I think as deep, achey pains run through my stomache. _Damn, I must be coming down with something. _

Something trickles from between my legs. _What the fuck? _I keep walking, trying to make my way to the bathroom to see what's up. _Something's not right. No, no, no. Something is defenitely wrong. _"Hey! Blondie!" A familiar voice calls my way. Whipping my head around, I find myself looking straight into the hazel eyes of Debbie Foreman. "What do you want? I didn't know they let dogs in school anyway," I retort, a scowl settling on my face. She laughs.

"I didn't know those jeans came in _red._" She giggles. Her friends laugh. _Red? _"What do you-" I start to say, feeling something wet on my jeans. _ .FUCK?Did my stab wound start bleeding or something?_

"Look, it's bloody Mindy instead of bloody Mary!" Debbie shrieks in laughter. Soon others are gathering around me, laughing. That's when I notice all of the blood that has spread onto my jeans from between my legs.

_**(A/N: Hey guys. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for all of your reviews. It really motivates me to write. Thanks**_ _**for your constructive criticism, it helps. OK, I've been getting some really interesting comments on this as well as criticism. Guys, I know it strays far off from the plot of Kick-Ass/Kick-Ass 2, but it's an AU, and anyway, it still has the dark style of Kick-Ass, which of course, everybody loves. Before I end this A/N, I want to recommend a fanfiction. It's called Take Me Under by Wise-Girl2468. It's a crossover [which, for the record, I know most people hate], but that doesn't mean it isn't any good. Please take a look at it, it's an epic story. Thanks for reading. Please review. I'll see you next chapter!) **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**SOMEWHERE ELSE, AT A DIFFERENT TIME...**_

"Mindy, I'm trying to understand exactly, what led you to the mass murders of many people, maybe some who were innocent?"

The girl stared at her psychiatrist with a scowl on her face. "None of us are innocent, doctor." She snarled, crossing her arms and resting against the cold metal chair she was in. Her doctor scribbled something on her clipboard, sighing and saying, "Ms. Macready, it would really help your case if you would cooperate."

Mindy only sneered at the poor doctor more. "You really think I care about getting out this hospital after what happened to everyone I care about? If I get out of here, there's nothing left to go home to. Why should I 'cooperate"- she made air quotations with her hands- "with you? So you can earn your shitty money and be done with a fuck-up like me? It's not as easy as that, doctor. So fuck off."

The doctor only sighed once again. She was close to giving up on Mindy. Still, she had to reach out to this girl who had been so different from her many other cases. Mindy wasn't like all the other girls that the doctor saw- it was difficult to even attempt to explain.

"Mindy," she said, "Look. Maybe you do have something to get home to, somebody out there must be wondering what happened to you...a friend, family member, maybe? We never talked about your mother, it could be her. I mean, someone out there is waiting for you to come home. Now, if you would help me find the root of this problem you seem to have, we could get to that person much quicker, couldn't we?"

"My mother is dead. My mother's been dead for years now. She killed herself while I was inside of her stomach because my dad was in jail. But..." Mindy started to say.

The young girl's eyes became shadowed over with something, the harsh remaints of a painful memory that stabbed into her heart like shards of glass. She shook her head as tears unwillingly squeezed out of her eyes. The silence was painful as she struggled to find the strength to bring it up again, to bring _him _up again.

"There is somebody...but I have no idea if he'd even care about me anymore. I haven't seen him since the night it all happened," She whispered, her voice shaky, "I said really bad things to him. I know why he doesn't come to visit me. God, he was the only thing holding me together for fuck's sake. I don't know why I ever took him for granted. God, I'm a fucking idiot for letting him go."

And as the words left her lips, she realized how true they were.

**PRESENT DAY**

**MINDY'S POV**

As soon as the last bell rings, I'm running out of that fucking classroom.

I find Dave in back of the school (which is weird, because he's almost never here) and he almost topples over as I crush him in a hug. It takes a few seconds, but Dave returns the hug and I snuggle up against him. Jesus, am I glad to see him. I clasp onto him tightly, trying not to think about my awful day and drown myself in his embrace.

Apparently, today I learned what getting my period was, after an embarassing chat with the nurse. God, was that awkward. How could I have no fucking clue about it though? Of all of the things my daddy taught me, why not this, why not prepare me for the one thing I couldn't handle? I mean, he taught me over a hundred ways to kill a man with a fucking pencil, why not the inevitable knowledge of a girl's monthly cycle?

Dave pulls apart from our hug as Marty and Todd, his best friends, snicker at us. "Watch your hands, Mindy, Katie's gonna get jealous," Marty teases. Heat flushes into my face, feeling like fire. "Oh, fuck you, the bitch isn't even here, anyways," I reply, crossing my arms. And, yes, by "the bitch", I mean Katie, Dave's girlfriend. I hate her so much it's not even funny, no matter how nice she is to me or how many times she's tried to befriend me. She's always around Dave, never letting us spend more than ten minutes together, plus, she won't let him be Kick-Ass, either, because apparently, "it's dangerous, and certainly no way to solve problems." If she thinks what _Dave _does is dangerous, maybe it's best that she has no idea who I am.

"Marty, Jesus! Lay off of Mindy, would you?" Dave demands. Marty raises up his hands in surrender as Todd laughs and says, "Shouldn't you be the one laying off of her?" Marty and Todd laugh as I bore my eyes into their skulls. "Sorry Mindy, I leave you and your lover alone," Todd says.

Dave gives Todd a look and mutters something about Todd having the mind of a thirteen year old. He pulls me more towards the parking lot, making sure we're alone. "Hey, I heard about what happened today. Are you OK?" He asks. He _heard _about it? Great. That means it's spreading around the fucking school like disease. Unfortunately, that's how rumors are- once they get to a person, spreading it is inevitable. I manage to mutter, "I'm fine,"(which is a total lie). Dave looks around like if he's checking if we're alone, then pulls me a little closer. Our lips are really close when he does that... _God, I wanna kiss him. What? NO! Wait- what?Jesus Mindy, stop it. Dave's with that slut, remember? Besides...where the fuck did this little crush come from? Daddy would be dissapointed. I'm letting my feelings fuck with me._

"Mindy," Dave says, concern written across his face, "How did you stab yourself? In the thigh? I mean, for real, Mindy? That was the work of no criminal, Mindy."

I look around the parking lot a little, trying not to look suspicious. I wish I paid more attention when daddy taught me how not to get taught lying during an interrogation. I know I'm not being interrogated, but it sure feels like that, with the sun burning on my face like hot lights and Dave's stern words.

"It was on the job, Dave, OK?" I say, raising an eyebrow, daring him to challenge me even more. Still, though, he does. "Mindy. Don't you fucking lie to me. I worry about you, Mindy. What the hell happened?" He presses. I sigh. "It was..." I trail off, trying not to look away, but Jesus, he can see right into my eyes, almost as if they're open doors.

I want to lie to him more, but I _can't. _Usually, I can lie- only when I have to- but I physically _can't _lie to Dave. Something in me is trapping the lie in my throat, preventing it from leaving me. I'm trying to push out the words, but they're trapped within me. All I can get out of me is the truth when I'm with him, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I want him to know, want him to worry.

"Tell me, Mindy. I swear, Mindy, if somebody hurt you, I'll-" He starts. _I can't hear him worry about me anymore when all I do is hurt him, lie to him, manipulate him._ "I did it myself, OK? Before you say anything...I needed the pain. It brought me back to reality when I could feel myself slipping away, and you weren't there for me, Dave, what else was I gonna do?" I exclaim. Dave looks stunned a little.

Theres minutes, what feels like hours of silence. Finally, Dave breaks it in two. "Mindy...if you need me, ever...I'll be there. Just...tell me when you feel yourself slipping away. I will be there for you. I promise," He says. I look up into his eyes as he says that, and mine fill a little with tears. "You're never here, Dave. Never. Nobody's ever there." I whisper, our faces closer than I thought. A car horn honks and my phone vibrates in my pocket. "I gotta go," I mutter before walking away.

_**LATER**_

Fastening on the purple wig, I look at myself in the full length mirror that hangs behind my bedroom door. I'm fully dressed in my costume, feeling more normal than I do in my regular clothes. It's been so long since I've been out, I can finally breathe again in the suit I was sure I'd never get back into. Luckily, Marcus has started doing night shifts again, which means I can start being Hit-Girl again. _Thank God. _ I start making my way towards the window just when I hear my phone buzz from my nightable.

There's one notification for a text message from Dave. I hestitate on opening it. After what happened at school today with me telling him, would reading the text only ruin my night? Oh well, it's not like anything really happened.

_Dave: Mindy, R U OK? I mean, after skl U said some things tht kind of worried me a little..._

_Me: I'm fine, Dave. Probly period hormones or some shit. _

_Dave: OK then... Talk to me tomorro at lunch. I wanna talk to U about something._

_Me: About? _

_Dave: A lot of things. U. Katie. Me. Kick-Ass. Hit-Girl._

_Me: That's a long talk. Lunch is pretty short..._

_Dave: Ya. It's a lot, but I really wanna talk to U. I genuinely want to._

_Me: Surprising._

_Dave:I'm sorry._

_Me: For?_

_Dave:Not being there for U._

_Me: When?_

_Dave: Lately. Right after the fight with D'Amico we were really close and I feel like I'm abandoning U or something bcause I never talk to U much anymore. Ur an amazing friend nd ur always there for me. I'm not, and I'm sorry. _

_Dave: ...I miss U, Mindy. A lot._

I know what I want to say. Actually there are a lot of things I _want _to say, but...ugh. My fingers move swiftly across the keyboard as I settle on a reply.

_Me: U don't really act like it. These days I feel like ur slowly going away from ... I miss u a lot, too._

I really do. _Damn it, Dave, why can't you just fucking see?_

I decide to end the conversation there. It's over anyway. He apologized, I accepted, shit got personal and all..fluffy. If you ask me, that's more than I think should be in one text message conversation. I throw my phone onto my bed, and before I know it, I'm out the window.

I realize something right then. Dave's my new crime fighting parter. Would he be mad I'm going without him? Oh well, he'll get over it. One less band of cunts that he has to handle. Besides, he isn't even trained yet anyway. I'd be practically sentencing him to death if I took him with me now.

As the night's cold air hits my face, I get shivers through me, shivers that are half adrenaline and half cold. The anticipation of using the weapon slung over my back again is getting to me. I stalk over to my Hit-bike, a little motorcycle painted dark purple with the word _Hit-Girl _painted in black along the side. I smile as I see it and hop on, turning the key (also purple, with a keychain reading HG on it) in it and starting it. My grin only grows wider as I hear the motorcycle humming, coming to life. If somebody were behind me, all that could be seen was the license plate _Hit-n-run _as I sped away, out of the garage.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I speed down the city roads and highways, out to my next mission. Unlike Kick-Ass, I don't do patrols, I make plans. Tonight, I'm taking one of the main bands of criminals that still run with the D'Amico family. The D'Amico family is still living and breathing under the control of Ralph D'Amico, brother to Frank D'Amico. He pretty much runs the entire organization through his prison cell, but he's one criminal nobody wants to fuck with. The gang I'm taking out tonight is going to be a far step from killing Ralph, but I'm saving big jobs for when I have my sidekick to assist me.

_Focus on tonight, Mindy. Daddy told you not to get ahead of yourself, ever. _Alright. Tonight, I'm up against ten people at most, (an easy job), a few drug dealers that work for the D'Amico family. Unfortunately, it might be a little too easy, considering these guys don't really like to get their hands dirty (meaning, they don't like to fight and they're probably not good at it). Although, all I'm out for tonight is blood. With all the shit that's going on in my life, I'd love to see a couple of scumbags die.

If only Dave were here. I know he loves the look on my face that I get, the light in my eyes that comes whenever I rid the world of yet another evil. I love it. It really makes me feel like a superhero every time I see another gang fall, another damn organization burnt to ashes. It's good doing good in the world. I can see that look in Dave's eyes, too, I know he thinks the same. Well, kind of. He doesn't like the killing, of course, but he loves it when he saves yet another life. I can see it written across his face. He smiles like a kid on Christmas, those God-damned beautiful eyes gleaming with the light of someone who has his confidence, his pride in being who he is, a superhero. I love seeing that in him like he loves it in me. With me, however, it's like a fire, burning, out to take out everything in my path that fuels my need for vengance. With him, it's like...rain, washing away all the fucked up shit in the world, but managing to stay pure, like, well, water.

Soon, I arrive just where I need to be, a small bar on the outskirts of the city. I ready my weapons and my killer opening line as I make my way towards the back entrance so everything I planned, like pieces of a puzzle, can fall perfectly into place, fitting together until something beautiful or fucked up emerges.

Time to die, cunts.

_**(A/N: I hate to leave you guys like this, but this chapter was getting a little lengthy, and a friend of mine told me longer chapters either have too much going on or stretch over one event too far, and I didn't want to do either. Anyway, do you guys think I have barely anything but one event going on in one chapter, or is the pacing OK for you guys? Please tell me, whatever you say, I'll work on it. Your feedback helps A LOT. That brings me to thank two fanfiction writers, Epicblonde52 and Makokam, for reviewing every single chapter with either encouraging or helpful feedback. Thanks, it means a lot. Also, thanks again Makokam for many helpful ideas/tips. **_

_**Ok, I don't want to make this A/N too long, so...See you next chapter!)**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Mindy's POV**

As soon as I pull the switch, the lights in the bar shut off and everything is pitch black.I can hear little murmurs of, "what the fuck?" and I smile, my butterfly knife nearly cutting into the palm of my hand. "Gentlemen...time to die," I whisper, ready to enter the main room of the bar. An image of D'Amico's goons saying the exact same line flashes through my mind. _Damn it. Fucking memories. _Forget that. I'm about to have another group of assholes to play with.

I slip on my night vision goggles and storm out of the room where I cut the power into the main room, where ten men are squinting in the darkness, frustrated. _Poor men. This certainly won't be a fair fight. _Luckily for me, tonight, the bar is rented out completely out by these goons, meaning its just me and them. I didn't even know you could rent out a bar, but...oh well. At least nobody but these scumbag assholes has to get hurt tonight.

I think of turning the power back on so at least they have one advantage over me, light, (what's the fun if I don't get a fight out of 'em?) but as that thought passes through my mind, the lights flicker and turn back on. I guess someone got to that before I could. I toss the goggles aside and scowl intimidatingly at the men who now stare back. Obviously, they have no idea who am I or what I can do to them. Smirking, I think, _this should be fun. _It's _always _fun to see the look on their surprised faces that cries, "Oh, fuck! This little girl just carved me up!" (or something along those lines). What I'm saying is, them underestimating me gives me a chance to fucking prove them wrong.

"Who wants to play?" I say in a sickly sweet voice, smiling like the happiest little girl in the fucking world. One man grabs a bottle from the counter from where they were sitting and smashes the bottom half, leaving the top as weapon of jagged sorts. Not surprisingly, the others remain still, one thought probably running through their heads, "This looks like a little kid. Do we fight or not?". With a flick of my hand, my butterfly knife is out of my hand, and flying towards him, it finds a home in his neck. _Does that answer your question, cunts? _

The other men gasp and one lunges towards me with a combat knife pointed at me. As he approaches, I draw my double bladed sword and slice at his arm, cutting it right off. The knife stays in his hand as his arm hits the floor with a disturbingly satisfying thud. _Where's your pretty little knife now, bitch? _He screams in agony and my smile only gets wider. With another swift movement, my sword slashes across his throat and he slumps to the ground. With him laying there, I go ahead and stick my sword in the back of his heart (ya know, just to make sure he's _really_ dead), and draw it back out quickly, looking at the shocked reactions of the crowd in front of me. I wipe my blood on the dead guys shirt and giggle like a crazed little girl.

"Tough guys, huh?" I tease, shaking my head as if I'm dissapointed in their fighting skills. Somehow, the remaining eight guys manage to get their shit together and charge towards me. I leap up on the counter and one staggers towards me (the poor fucktard is obviously drunk) and unsucessfully tries to leap up onto the bar as another man runs towards me, but I leap up and stretch out both of my legs, kicking both men in the head. Once I land from the jump, I draw my twin pistols and shoot both in the head.

With fresh blood splattered on my shoes, I jump again, doing a flip forwards and landing on one of the tables in the bar. I look around for a death count, quickly scanning the room. _Four down, six to go._ The thought is barely processed as I realize an asshole is behind the counter, throwing bottles at me. One hits the side of my head, but I'm too adrenaline charged to feel the pain. I stagger back a little and almost fall off the table, but I throw my other butterfly knife at that guy and it hits his temple. I laugh as yet another douche slumps to the ground. My balance regained, I hop to the floor, leaving me surrounded in the circle of assholes. _Not a problem. _

Swiftly I slide out from under one guy, exiting the circle, stabbing him in the nuts during the process. The guy screams and falls to his knees. I bring up my sword again and stab him through the chin, the blade running through his head and coming out of the top of his head. Blood squirts from his nose and mouth and splatters my face and costume. Some almost gets in my mouth, but still, I grin. _That's another douchebag gone. Five down, five to go. _ It is _so _fun ridding the world of cock sucking scum. It's like cleaning up pollution. It's a messy job, and usually, it's not easy, but it makes the world a better place. If only daddy were here to see me. He'd be so pleased with my work.

I'm so caught up in my own sick happiness that I don't even realize somebody has grabbed me from behind until I hear the voice behind me. "Not so tough now, are you, you little skank?" He says with a chuckle. A memory flashes through my mind as this happens.

...

_ Blood hits the door and I gasp, the sound of a gunshot ringing in my ears. I'm used to the sound by now, so it doesn't startle me much. The sound of static comes through my earpiece and I press the button on it. Daddy's voice comes from it. "Now Hit-Girl, we always keep our backs WHERE?" He asks._

_ I roll my eyes a little, not at daddy but at my own stupidity. "To the wall daddy, I know. It won't happen again," I reply. DUH. How many lessons and training sessions did I go through to get that through my head? No matter how many weapons you have, you aren't as skilled when somebody gets you from behind, especially if you're tiny like me. If I don't remember next time, I'm gonna fucking kill somebody over-_

_ Oh, duh. I was gonna kill them anyway._

...

I struggle against the man, who has my arms pinned behind my back. _Damn it. Mother of all fucks. Did I NOT recently just get told to keep my back to the FUCKING wall?. _Luckily, I manage to raise my leg and kick the guy in the balls.

The guy screams in pain and clamps his arms tighter around me as another guy steps forward with a knife. I don't even give him time to come up with a winning line as I kick him _harder _in the nuts. He drops the knife and I kick him in the head, ramming my foot into his skull. He screams and I hear a sickening crunch. Damn, I guess I underestimated the power of steel toed shoes. I remember first trying to walk in these things. It was like dragging fucking weights behind me. Oh well, I guess that's another guy down.

But, no, that would be too easy, and things are never that easy. He gets back up, and even though I can see a dent in his skull, he's _still _fucking walking. The only person I know who can take that hard of a beating is Dave, and only because that bitch has metal plates in his head. Damn it, now I'm thinking about Dave. _OK, don't lose focus. It was never that hard to keep focused before, Mindy. Fucking focus._

Even without the dent in his skull, I guess it still would have been easy enough to kill him. I release one arm from the guy whos holding me's grip, and draw my pistol back out. I shoot him in the dick, first (just because I like hurting pricks). Then, with a small smile that seems set in for the night on my face, I shoot him in the throat, blood squirting. I stomp down hard on the other guy's foot and he releases me as another crunch-like noise is heard. Whipping around, I shoot him in the eye before he can do anything else. Fucking finally. _That makes...seven down, meaning I'm almost done. Aww, I'm having so much fun though. _

The remaining three surround me, as if to threaten me. _Yeah, right, they're the ones who should be scared. _I quickly think of inventive ways to kill them, which leaves me with so many options. I mean, daddy and I filled an entire bedtime storybook with ways to kill a man, and I've mastered them all. I think a little bit more, and look at the men before me. One of them is short, stocky, well built. He's obviously the strongest and best out of the three. The other two look like stick bugs. They don't even carry weapons.

I look for an obvious weakness in the muscular guy. He carries a pistol, and hasn't fired it at me all night, but that doesn't mean he can't use it. Speed doesn't look like his strong suit. A couple quick moves and I'll have caught him off guard. _And, _it'll be fast enough to where the others won't be able to respond as quickly. _Sounds like a plan. _

Swiftly I flip backwards, my feet hitting him in the face. I recover from the flip quickly and punch him in the heart, hard. After doing so, I draw a combat knife and plunge it right into his eye. There's a sickening splatter of blood and he screams. I pull the knife out of his eye and dig it into his throat. He falls to the ground and I focus on the other two men. I don't even _want _to fight these skinny pricks. They probably woudn't even last a God-damned _second. _I settle on a shot in the head for each and watch as each dies.

I admire my work as the last two men are finally finished. There's a nice mess of bodies scattered around the place. As I pick up my weapons I can't help but to think about how daddy would react to this night. Would he say it was too messy? Too sloppy? Unorganized? Or would he think I did a good job? Generally, he used to think I did great most of the time, but this is the first mission I organized on my own. What if it _was _awful? I got the job done, but...what if I didn't get it done to daddy's standards?

Pretty soon I get done 'cleaning up' and I have no other buisness in the bar but to leave. I sit on the bar's counter, knowing I have to go before some employee or some shit comes and realizes what's happened, but not wanting to leave. I don't want to go home to an empty house and sit around waiting for dawn. I could do a patrol, but...no. That's not what I do.

I guess there's only one place to go...

_**A LITTLE LATER...**_

__"Dave?"

I hear a gasp in the darkness and a light flickers on. I can see Dave now, squinting at the new bright beams of light. "Shit, Mindy! What the hell are you doing here?" He asks.

_Thanks for sounding excited to see me, Dave. It really makes me feel good._

I sit next to him on his bed and pull off my wig. "You told me earlier you wanted to talk," I reply, smirking. Dave stretches and sighs. "I didn't mean at two in the morning. Besides, you can't be here, Mindy. Jesus, Katie's right there in the bathroom. Do you know how fucking freaked out she would be if she found me sitting with Hit-Girl in the middle of the night?"

Something pangs in my heart when he says that. _Of course Katie's here. After all, where else would she be, right? _I bite my tounge to keep cruel words from spilling out and sigh. "Yeah, um, OK," I say, grabbing my wig and pulling myself up, off te bed. I don't try to hide the dissapointment and hurt in my voice. I _want _him to know that he's hurt me. I start to head towards his bedroom window again when I hear his voice.

"Mindy, wait, I'm sorry," he says. I keep my eyes on the window and mutter, "I know."

Before I can get any more pissed off, I'm out the window, stepping outside into a world where the sky is swirling colors in the early morning, with the sun threatening to rise. It's a world so pretty I almost forget how fucking ticked off I am.

As I'm making my way home, I try to cool down, but to no avail. Hopping on my bike, I sigh and scowl at the night sky. Why am I so mad, though? It's just Dave, right? _Just Dave? Yeah right. _Dave's not "just Dave" anymore, I realize. He was the one I cried on when Daddy died, the one that holds me when I'm sad and the one that tells me things are going to be OK when I'm sure they won't. How much longer am I gonna keep telling me myself that he means nothing to me? You can't lie to yourself forever. Well, I can lie just a little longer. Long enough to keep me alive.

Tears blur my vision and I fight hard to keep my eyes on the road. Why am I crying? I shouldn't be such a pussy about nothing. Daddy wouldn't want me to be acting like this, especially over somebody who's...kinda worth it. I blink the tears away from my eyes and speed home.

_**(A/N: Originally I had more written for this chapter, but it was getting to be seven pages, and that would have been a little too much. I mean, I'm probably the only person on this website that can sit through something like that or longer. But because of the kinda short length, I'll update soon. Anyway, what'd you think? What do I need to fix? Any suggestions? Please review.**_

_**See you all next chapter!)**_


	7. Chapter 7

**(A/N: Before the chapter starts, I want to give a HUGE thanks to NJHarris for so many, wonderful, awesome reviews. Since chapter one, NJHarris has given me great, encouraging reviews. Thanks again. I know there's a lot of worthy people I didn't mention here, sorry. But a big, big thanks to everyone who reviews. I love you guys. You're the reason I write. **

**Ok, well...after this chapter, it's pretty much gonna get to the point in the story where things start to go...well, crazy, pretty much. The prolouge of this story is gonna start making a whole lot more sense as this story progresses. So yeah, be prepared. Otherwise...enjoy the chapter!)**

_**Mindy's POV**_

_**SOMEWHERE ELSE, AT A DIFFERENT TIME**_

"Mindy, please!" Dave cried, his beautiful green eyes filling with tears. "Don't die, please Mindy, I need you. I know you can live through this. The ambulance will be here soon, Ok? Just hold on until then, for me."

The light was getting brighter and brighter. I tried to ignore it, but the overwhelming whiteness was too strong to avoid. There was pain everywhere and a tense, tight feeling in my chest. With every breath my body screamed in agony. I knew I was going to die, had forseen it long before the incident happened, but how could I have explained that to Dave, the feeling of death looming over me like a dark storm cloud? Only a crazy person could understand why the feeling was there or what the feeling was. I just knew I was going to die.

I reached out, feeling around for Dave's hand and grasped it tightly and tried to force words out of my lips. I wanted to tell him it would be ok, that he'd move on. I couldn't speak, though, no matter how forcibly I tried to get something out of me. Dave seemed to understand this, because he only squeezed my hand and brushed hair away from my forehead, soothing me, trying to carry me away from my pain. Sending spikes of pain to my brain, I turned the corners of my lips up in a smile. Right then, I was able to understand how my father was able to smile as he died, how everyone in movies smiled when it was their time- it was to make the ones who cared about you feel better, to make them feel like everything was going to be OK because they'd done so much for you and you wanted to repay them in your final moments.

Dave sadly smiled back, a tear running down his face. I was nearly crying, too, at the thought of leaving him behind with nothing. After everything I'd done, everything that had happened...he'd be better off dead, too. What's the point of being alive when you have no reason to keep breathing? But maybe Dave had a purpose. Maybe Kick-Ass was more important to this world than I thought. It seemed that he was more important than Hit-Girl was at the time.

I was as good as dead. I didn't have an alter ego anymore, somebody else to become when things got hard. I'd ruined Hit-Girl and fucked up Mindy Macready so badly to the point of where we didn't have a life anymore. There was nothing left for me anymore, no reason to stay. All I was, was an empty shell with no more meaning. Maybe the knife was cut into my skin for a reason. As I lay there dying, I think I heard words softy coming from Dave's lips. "I love you."

All of a sudden, I didn't want to die.

**PRESENT DAY**

**(Lunch at school the next day)**

"Hey," Dave says, setting his tray down next to mine at our table. Absent-mindedly, I play with my food, trying not to look at him as I mutter my reply, "Hey." I'm surprised he's sitting with me instead of with his other friends, Todd and Marty, or his girlfriend. Not that I'm complaining that he's here with me, I mean, I love sitting with Dave, I love our talks, when we hang out...but...it's just...a new thing for him to be sitting here (so often, I mean, because it's been happening a lot). But... after what happened last night, I don't know what to feel about Dave (and stupid Katie) right now. I can't belive he dissed me for his whore girlfriend. Why would he just kick me out to be with her? Fucking douche.

Apparently, Dave reads my fucking mind like a fangirl reading a novel about kids killing each other, because the next thing I know, he's apologizing about last night (which he should have done a long time ago, in my opinion). "I'm sorry, Mindy. If I'd had known you were gonna drop by, I wouldn't have invited her over. Look, I'm really, really sorry. Just...can we talk, now?" He asks, begging with his eyes. I roll my eyes, but smirk at his adorable pathetic apology.

"What'd you even wanna talk about?" I ask. Vaguely, I remember his texts. He mentioned something about wanting to talk about Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. "Was it about Kick-Ass?" I murmur softly enough to where only he can hear, not wanting to reveal his identity. The last thing my new, untrained sidekick needs is to have his real name and address spreading all over the fucking school and the God-damn internet.

Dave shakes his head and says, "Well, kind of, but no...it's about us."

To my surprise, my heart skips a beat when he says, 'us.' What? Why? Just- um- I really don't know. Oh God. I really _do _have a crush on Dave_. Do I? _All I can think about is the way he smiles at me, the way he's always there for me, the way he's skipping lunch with Katie to be with me... at the thought of that I feel heat flood into my face and I know I'm now a bright red color. Oh my fucking God. I have a crush on Dave. No. Just. ...this is fucking crazy. Just...I have to stop thinking about it.

Breaking out of my thoughts, I nod and gesture for him to keep talking. "Look Mindy, we're friends right?" He continues. I nod again and try not to stare into his amazing eyes. _Stop thinking about that, _I think to myself, _distractions from the mission are your number one enemy._

I clear my throat and manage to get out in a shaky voice, "Yeah, um, continue." Dave looks at me funny but shakes it off and continues."Look, um, lately you've been acting...distant. I'm really fucking worried about you, Mindy. I mean, you phase out a lot, and you have these horrible visions and really bad nightmares and...you've gotten really bad. Is it something at home that's scaring you or stressing you out? Are you having trouble adjusting to your new home? Yesterday you told me that nobody's there for you and you're so alone and it kills me to hear you say that, you know that? C'mon, Mindy. You can tell me anything. Just tell me what's wrong." He pleads, grabbing my hand.

I look away and sigh as I realize that I don't even know what's wrong with me. Every problem I have, the nightmares, the visions, the way I black out and wake up with no memory of the last couple of hours- I can't trace those problems but to one event, my daddy's death. I ask myself every day if that's the real reason or if there's just something really wrong with me.

"Dave...I don't...I don't know. I mean, since daddy died, I'll admit, I've been a little...fucked up lately. But I don't want to believe that's the only reason I'm like this. I don't wanna believe one event is enough to push me over the edge!" I exclaim, tossing my stupid plastic fork onto the tray. "I'm supposed to be strong, Dave! What's wrong with me?" My voice shakily rises to a shout and pairs of eyes burn into me. I know people are staring. _Pretty soon I'll have people lining up to visit me in a mental hospital if I don't stop acting like a pyscho. _I pretend I don't notice the stares and tell myself that I don't care. Dave sighs.

"Mindy...," he trails off. "First of all, don't yell, you're attracting attention. Second...I'm sorry. I really wish there was something I could do to make you better. Do you want a therapist or something?" He asks.

I shake my head and scowl at him. "I'm not fucking crazy! I just wanna fucking know why I'm like this!" I harsly say, trying to keep from hitting something. Dave rolls his eyes and mumbles, "Can we add anger issues to the list of things wrong with you?" Obviously he thinks I can't hear him.

"I don't have anger issues! I just...I'm not crazy, Dave! You know that! Now stop acting like it!" I exclaim just as I hear snickers from behind me. I whip my head around and tune in to what middle school's mean girls are saying.

_"OMG, _look at her hideous hair! She looks like a drag queen!" One girl smiles. The main girl laughs and says, "At least it takes the attention away from her big face! It looks like a moon sometimes!" By her laugh, I recognize the girl immeadiately as Debbie Foreman, my very own bully.

Humilation courses through me and I pull my hair out of my pigtails and let it loose so it covers my 'big ugly moon face.' I look at the girls again. I can't hear what they're saying, but do I really want to? I turn back to Dave with teary eyes and mumble something about needing to get to class. I run out of the lunch room and dart into the bathroom.

Looking into the foggy, dirty, mirror, I let one tear roll down my face. Maybe I really am ugly. Is my face really like a moon? _Oh come on, you can't believe everything they say. _My blonde hair _does _look bad though. I straighten it out and clip it back. It looks a little better. Slowly, I take deep breaths. Daddy wouldn't want me to be hurt by them. Fuck, I don't even get hurt when I get stabbed. Why now?

After scowling at my reflection, I pull myself together, wipe my eyes, and exit the bathroom. I don't want to be here nor can I be here. The only thing that would make me feel better would be being Hit-Girl.I navigate through the halls, trying to find the front door.

Unfortunately, I get stopped on the way their by none other than the person I really didn't need to see right now. Debbie.

"If it isn't the wicked bitch of the west," I mumble, rolling my eyes. "What do you want? Haven't you insulted me enough for one day?" I demand. Debbie laughs and brushes her red hair away from her face. Her golden eyes bore into me, feeling like flames. If there was a reason daddy never made me go to school, I guess it was because of bitches like Debbie. I think my daddy knew I'd be stuck trying to figure out to let her win, or break a couple laws and get rid of the bitch. _Oh, daddy, thank you for not subjecting me to this any sooner. _

Debbie leans in, trying to be indimating. I guess she would be if I wasn't Hit-Girl. "So who were you sitting with at lunch? Is he your boyfriend? How did you even get in with high school kids, you whore? Are you selling yourself again? I thought that was only your night job!" She sneers with a cruel smile. I roll my eyes and ignore the pain I get from her words, trying to be strong. I hear daddy's voice in my head. _Never let them see your weak side, baby doll. It gives them something you can't take back. Power._

"You would know a lot about that, wouldn't you? Now let me out!" I exclaim, trying to shove her out of the way. I can't shove her too hard. That would only reveal my strength. Debbie laughs evily.

"Got somewhere to be?" She giggles. I try and shove her again but this time, I push harder. She falls to the floor, hitting her head on the door. I try and surpress my smile and keep from laughing. _Ok, _that _was hilarious. _"You_ bitch!_" She screams. Debbie scowls at me and tries to get to her feet. People walk by and chuckle at her and for once I feel awesome, standing here next to her. One guy even takes a picture. Smirking, I offer her my hand. She scoffs and instead uses the door to help herself up.

Once she's back up, she straightens up her hair and screams in frustration. I supress more laughter and cross my arms. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?" I say with a victorious smile. I don't even see her raise her hand, but the next thing I know she's slapped me. Laughing inwardly, I think, _I didn't even feel it. _Debbie's face is red with anger.

"You are going to _pay _for that, you little slut! How dare you make _me _the joke!" She shouts. "We'll see who's laughing at who when I'm done with you! Maybe you and your little boyfriend won't be so smug then! I don't know who's gonna get it worse, him, or you!" With every word she says, rage bubbles up in me. She's going after _DAVE?! _

I shove her up against the lockers, grabbing her by the shirt. "Look, fucker. You can do whatever the hell you want to me, but if you _dare _to hurt Dave, I swear to God, I'll-"

"Aww, Mindy, are you trying to kiss her?"

Dropping Debbie, I turn around quickly and eye the crowd of girls behind me. A bunch of girls are laughing at me. "No, I'm not trying to kiss her, you whore." Everybody laughs.

"I'm the whore?" A girl with curly blonde hair and too much lipstick asks. _Um, yeah. Anyone who wears that much makeup should be out on a street corner. _

The girl continues. "First the high school boy at lunch and now you're trying to bang Debbie? Who's the whore now? Her words send ice into my veins, cold, ruthless shots of pain. "I've got pictures of the whole thing, Debbie. Don't you think these would look _amazing _on Facebook?" The girl and Debbie laugh. "That does sound good, Brooke. You hear that Mindy? You're gonna be famous!" Debbie laughs. Tears rush to my eyes as everybody laughs. Each laugh, every chuckle, giggle, or smirk makes my blood boil. I can't take anymore.

I run out the front doors with tears running down my face. I don't even know where I'm going. I just keep running, trying to keep the flood of sobs from bursting out of me.

The journey to the cemetary is quick. The cemetary is a somber place. Headstones, stick out of the ground like knives sticking out of dead bodies. I slow down, letting my feet crunch the leaves on the ground. I walk around the place, taking it all in. Some people are at a funeral. Others are just visiting, carrying large bouqeuts of flowers and different teddy bears. I stop and look at a little girl, kneeling at her mother's grave. She's asking her why she's in a hole in a ground. I keep walking. Stopping at my daddy's grave, I fall to my knees and let the tears spill from my eyes. Shutting my eyes, I bow my head down, leaning it towards the headstone.

"Daddy, you taught me how to skin a wolf with my bare hands, blind a man with my thumbs, and build a bomb with the contents of a kitchen cabinet..." I murmur, the wind blowing through my tangled, matted hair. Leaves rustle and fly in the wind, drifting along, moving as if they had somewhere better to be than a cemetary. I sniffle and let more tears blur my vision."I've shot people, choked people, even drowned a motherfucker..." I continue.

I choke out a sob and look up at the sky.

"Why can't I handle these bitches?"


End file.
